Fishing In The Desert

The desert leaves quite a bit to be desired when it comes to the nature department. Sure, we've got parks with tiny patches of grass. And grass in the backyard. But that grass would be dead in a minute, if the sprinklers went on the fritz.

When I was a kid, my brother and I would spend entire days playing in the woods, building trails, forts and hideaways. Kids in the desert? The only forts they're building are made of pillows and blankets.

So I'm sure you'd think fishing is totally out of the question when you reside in the desert. But it's not. We just so happen to live 5 minutes away from Floyd Lamb State Park. Originally, it was built as a far away destination (yes, the thriving, home-filled, area we currently reside in, was in the middle of nowhere 50 years ago) for future divorcees to hang out until their required 30 day residency had been filled, in order to file for a divorce. It was a country club of sorts, with large pools, lodging and I'm sure plenty of fabulous vintage Vegas partying. Vegas has got so many classic stories like this. As usual... I have digressed. Today, Floyd Lamb is home to 3 large, fish stocked lakes, gorgeous green trees and more grass than I've found anywhere else in the valley. It's also strangely home to tons of very large, colorful, free roaming peacocks. I haven't yet figured out the connection, or the reason they're there. But they're a sight to behold when they raise those feathers to show off.

Michael has always been obsessed with fishing. I equate it to the grass is always greener theory -- he wants what he can't have. Much like he'd like a huge backyard with an ATV track, and an ocean out the window to fall asleep to. It's the barren, desolate desert that makes you crave nature in any form other than brown rocks and tumbleweed. He's actually got two fishing poles, which he's never used. So last weekend, on a highly unusual weekend where my husband and I both got the weekend off -- we decided to take the boy fishing. We brought his favorite partner in crime, Jacob and packed up the kids, the rods and the tackle box and headed to Floyd Lamb on a beautiful spring afternoon.

Full disclosure: I know nothing about fishing. I might have fished once or twice as a child. But I've never understood so many people's fascination with standing at a lake and holding a pole, while hoping for a bite. I don't know how to cast or reel in or put a worm on a hook. Thankfully, Kevin does. (He's one of those amazing human beings who can fix just about anything, he's very do-it-yourself.) Plus, I don't eat fish. So what the hell would I do if I actually caught something. Seems sort of pointless and cruel to hook something I'd never eat.

I was sure the boys were going to bored out of their minds in a matter of minutes. But, as is usual for me, they loved every minute of it.

They didn't catch a single thing... Not one bite. They tangled their lines, got their hooks caught in the bushes, and in my, very female mind, I was sure that they were going to be very disappointed in their first adventure fishing. But they had a reel good time (pun intended). At one point, Jacob said "this is the most fun I've ever had".

Boys Will Be Boys

I've come to accept that I live in a severely estrogen challenged household. Basically, I'm it. I live with the constant sounds of hockey games, WWE wrestling, and boys talking about things that only boys would discuss. I promise you, as a child, my friends and I did not spend the afternoons comparing farts, burps, or who could pin each other to the ground the fastest. But in my house, that's par for the course. I swear, I look longingly across the street some days and watch how calm and politely the girls play together. There's no mud being tracked into their house, no pee covering the toilet seat, no Lego pieces hidden strategically where I can step on them (when I'm barefoot of course).

But honestly, I wouldn't change a thing about my crazy house full of boys. Being the only girl in the house has given me the chance to be the one they all look out for. The princess in a home full of doting knights in shining armor. If I step on that Lego and scream out in pain... My boys come running. If I lay down on the couch after a too long day at work, Michael's even been known to make me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich (just to be sure that I've eaten). They spoil me, love me to pieces, and fill my days with laughter.

These children are growing faster than I can handle. And no matter how high my frustration levels get on a given day -- I'm content knowing that Michael still wants me to lay with him before bed, that Matthew runs to me when I walk through the door, and my incredible man never goes to sleep without kissing me goodnight. It the simple, little things that matter the most. That's what living in a house full of boys has taught me. That life doesn't always have to be dramatic, gossipy or fake. Sometimes life simply has to be honest. And that's one thing I love about boys. They're rarely fake, they always speak their mind, and most of the time, they're not concerned in the least about what someone might think. It's a lesson I've learned to love.